The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

I’ve always loved New York so much that leaving for the weekend has never been a priority. Even in the height of summer, I shun the Hamptons and spend the weekends playing tourist and enjoying the empty park. All to say, going to the Catskills at the end of November isn’t at the top of my bucket list. But that’s exactly where Worth and I are headed. He wants to show me his cabin, and honestly, I want to see it. I want to know every part of him. Getting to know him the last few weeks has been like being on some huge treasure hunt. I keep uncovering more and more great stuff about the man I’m married to.

“I’ve learned that the drive up is important,” Worth says from the driver’s seat. He’s wearing an open-necked plaid shirt, jeans, and boots. It’s not a version of Worth I’ve seen before, but Mountaineer Worth is hot. His five-hundred-dollar haircut and unshaven jaw don’t hurt, either. I plan to appreciate the hell out of the side-profile view I have of him for the next hundred miles or so.

“Important how?”

“Important because it takes time to leave the city behind. I’ve used a helicopter a couple of times, but it’s not the same.”

“It’s not the same as going by car? Because it’s going by air and it’s quicker?” I ask sarcastically.

“Wow, you’re funny,” he says, his mouth twitching at the sides.

“It’s nonstop jokes with me,” I reply. “But seriously, tell me why a helicopter is a bad idea, other than it’s terrifying and bad for the environment.”

“Because in a car you’re forced to move through the landscape at a slower pace. You see it change. First the high buildings disappear, then the houses get bigger and more spread apart, and in among that is the greenery. More and more trees appear. It’s like they’re welcoming you in, urging you forward.”

“It feels like you’re about to break into song. Please can you warn me if you’re going to start singing?” I grin at him.

“Interesting idea. I might just want to surprise you.” He slides his hand over my thigh and I snake my fingers between his. His hands are so large and strong, just like the rest of him. He’s the anchor in my personal storm at the moment. He’s keeping me safe and sane. “It’s a gradual change,” he says. “It gives you time to let go of what’s in the city and embrace what’s in the mountains.”

I’m silenced by what he’s saying. It’s thoughtful and profound and just so entirely him. I squeeze his hand. “And what is it you want to leave behind?”

“Just the usual,” he says. “Work and stuff.”

“And you want to leave work behind because…?”

“I love my job. But it’s a lot of… work.”noveldrama

“Because you have employees and they’re looking to you for direction and paychecks?”

“Yeah. Partly that. And because a lot of the time I’m investing in people’s dreams. In passion projects. That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Do you get very caught up in the individuals?”

“I did at first. I have to separate myself a little more now.” He pauses and I don’t speak. Worth is a thinker, and I don’t want to interrupt that. “I separate myself, which makes it easier, takes some of the pressure off, but it also takes away some of the sense of purpose. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. So the sense of purpose comes from helping people realize their dreams, but that comes with huge pressure.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s a conundrum. It’s the same for your sisters as well, I suppose. Except the stakes are higher.”

“What do you mean?” He blinks. I’m mesmerized by his long lashes and the way he shifts in his seat. If we weren’t going fifty miles an hour, I’d straddle the guy and make out with him for a week.

“You help them realize their dreams. You must feel huge pressure for them to succeed.”

“Huh,” he says. “I hadn’t drawn the comparison before.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

“What about your own dreams and ambitions?” I ask. “Are they always for other people to succeed, and then you’re successful by default?”

“I’ve never thought about it like that.”

He’s so completely willing to listen and see a different perspective. For someone so powerful, he completely checks his ego. “You’re a good guy, do you know that?”

He looks across at me and smiles, this huge boyish grin, and it’s like the sun coming out. This man lights me up, inside and out.

“You have a pretty smile,” I say.

He chuckles as he turns back to face the road. “Not as pretty as yours.”

“Wow,” I say as we round the corner. Suddenly we can see for miles. Trees in every color fill the view as far as the eye can see, like they’re piled on top of each other, in every color, reds and golds and deep browns. There’s still hints of green from the smattering of evergreens, but this is leaf-peeper heaven. I have a flash of us forty years from now making the same journey, a blanket on my knees and wrinkles at Worth’s eyes. I bet he’ll say wow every trip when he sees the leaves turning like this.

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “There’s every color.”

“Can you believe they do this every year?” Worth says. “The trunks and branches stay solid while the leaves shift and change. Eventually the branches let them fall, leaving them bare. It’s such a beautiful ritual. Then that trunk and those branches grow new life the next spring, like nothing happened. It’s so symbolic. The passing of a chapter can be as beautiful as the start of a fresh one.”

I swallow, my throat tight. “Yeah. I guess life is full of chapters ending.” It’s certainly the end of the chapter where I thought my dad walked on water. That book is firmly closed.

“You don’t get the new ones without ending the old ones,” Worth says. “It’s about survival. The tree knows it can’t survive as it is. It lets go of the leaves to ensure it continues into the next year. The roots and trunk grow and expand, develop new branches, and create new leaves the next year. It’s really beautiful.”

The road curves and a fresh landscape unfurls in front of us, more rust colors this time, with smatterings of yellow. I can see the branches more clearly. More of the leaves have dropped.

“And the old leaves don’t just disappear,” Worth says. “They fall and become food for the trunk and the new leaves. The old chapters make the new chapters richer and stronger.”

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive him,” I confess. “I know that makes me a bad person, but I just don’t know if I can.”

Worth tightens his hand in mine. I know he wants to help, but this is not a problem he can solve. “It doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human. There’s no pressure on you to forgive him. No one’s going to think badly of you. Maybe your next chapter doesn’t involve him. Or maybe it does, but in a totally different way from before.”

“Mom wants me to hear him out. Oliver says the same thing.”

“They’re trying to make you feel better. But they’re so involved in the situation that all of your needs are overlapping. You need to do what’s right for you when the time is right.”

“But I don’t want to upset Mom or Oliver.”

He shakes his head. “You won’t. They love you.”

“Do you think I can live in this in-between world where I’m not not speaking to my dad and my family isn’t a family? It can’t go on forever.”

“You’ll know when the time is right to reach out. You need to trust yourself.”

“I don’t trust anyone at the moment.” I glance across at him, wishing I hadn’t said those words. Worth has given me no reason not to trust him. He’s been nothing but a gold-star boyfriend or husband or whatever he is. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust anyone completely ever again. Including myself. I’ve lost faith that what seems real is anything more than an illusion.

“Don’t feel bad about whatever you’re feeling,” Worth says, reading my mind as usual. Sometimes I wonder if he knows me better than I know myself. “Let’s just see what today brings. You can’t bring back yesterday or fast-forward to tomorrow.”

“Please god, no songs.” My words are joking, but I can’t inject my tone with the same levity. I desperately want resolution, but none of the roads available give me the ending I want. Because what I want is my father to have been the man I thought he was.

Worth pulls my hand in his onto his lap and takes a deep breath, like he’s about to belt out an eighties rock ballad, then stops. “Not going to do that to you.” He brings our hands to his mouth and presses a kiss on the back of my hand.

“We’re going to have a great weekend,” he says simply.

The road bends again and we’re faced with a fresh landscape, even more beautiful than the one before.